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Dancing with the Dark
Conversations on Race from The Well of the Damned: 11/6/2022
© 2022 James LaFond
MAY/23/23
“James, are you familiar with the Armintrout character from Breaking Bad, a retired Philly cop involved in the drug trade? Since I have been the subject of mixed-race black on Chinese aggression, recently, in Salem Mass, lately there is scene that comes to mind where a group of Latino and black youths start with him, and he drops one, and the rest back off. Most you tube comments on that scene state that it would not go that way? What are your thoughts.”
-Han Silo, by phone
Most of what Anglo-economic “white” people believe and project on people of actual genetic races is false, usually by 90 to 180 degrees. Dozens of times, myself, and friends, of all races in Baltimore, have been the subject of spontaneous gratuitous black pack attack initiations. I could go back through the various Harm City posts and make a book themed on one, two or three black dudes encouraging a third, lower status black guy to attack me, or Big Ron, or Oliver, or Gabriel. If the attack works, it is pile-on group bonding experience, elevating the low status actor. If it fails it becomes a hazing group-bonding experience, demeaning the low status actor, elevating the target to a mythic booger man and also of the instigating group over the lower ranking member.
The thing that rings false about the scene described is of a mixed race gang. Hollywood is always placing fantasy mixed race gangs together, when gangs are almost always racially homogeneous. [1]
Also, such racially homogeneous gangs usually attack members of their own race, black on black, white on white, etc. This goes with cops, also. Police officers are far more likely to use excessive force against members of their own race. The most retarded thing about America is that whites and blacks agree that police brutality is mostly white on black, when it is mostly black on black and white on white. Such morons deserve to suffer on blindly according to heir media-generated misconceptions.
“James, are you okay, still writing, doing podcasts with that nice lady? I’m going to start reading and listening again. I was involved with this Tongan woman for two years. I told her about you, that you were this historian with a beautiful mind and she looked you up and all of a sudden I was a natzy, and I couldn’t read you. From her perspective, our relationship was all about race. From my perspective, I did not care.”
“I know you like those big butts, James, but stay away from the Tongan broads! This woman could not handle her drink. She would get drunk and punch me—it was like being hit by a gorilla. She was 200 pounds! I’m a big man, as you know, a hockey player. I can take it. Then she gets angry that I don’t hit her back, and does not understand that I have a code, that I do not hit women, that I do not honor their petty rage with the fist. Her family loves me. I was with her because I don’t even know why. I was white and she was brown. I could have cared less—I’m Canadian. We’re used to breeding with brown women. She was constantly obsessed with racial injustice. And I’m the racist?”
-Grant
Sorry, bro, that your Tom Selleck looking mug got tagged by the Tongan sex beast on my account! I always wanted a Polynesian girl. I feel about as sorry for you as I do for that negro West who got Kim’s giant ass and forgot who owned his own black ass. Now, I do recall dating the 38-year-old mother of a cashier of mine named Danera, who could not get over my race, so we broke it off. She had been, at first, really intrigued when her daughter said, “Mister Jimmy ain’t color struck—he just likes pretty, en you pretty.”
I thought she was adorable and had raised a good daughter, despite having been a dancer for Tupac. But there was something about me not caring about her race that she could not get past. She quizzed me and I even gifted her a book on The Great Migration. This confused her even more. You see, Mister West’s Slave Masters had conditioned her to trust no white man who had not been genocided by The Bad Mustache Club. I did not fit any of her implanted misconceptions, so she recoiled. Then when she found out that my cousin and I had both been the subject of Proto White Nationalist Skinhead assassination attempts, and that I still did not hate white people, she could not wrap her head around that. My simple appreciation for a tiny waist and a roundly brown butt did not fit with my lack of envy or hate. She dumped me for lack of race hate.
Ironically, this systemic lie, that the one group of deracinated people “whites” are somehow uniquely hateful of all real races when we are the one group most likely to die on behalf of people of other types, is a diabolic method of pitting the natural peoples of “color” against the unnatural economic people that are supposedly the complete absence of color unattainable by all but albinos against one another. I leave it to the reader to determine what group this diabolism benefits.
“James, I’m recording 40,000 Years From Home and would like to do a chapter a day on you tube. What other history books would you like me to record? Anything I should skip, that might get us deplatformed?”
-Incognegro, A.K.A Oliver Hayes
“Bro, in the history books on Plantation America, there are some chapters that discuss the role a certain people have played in the slave trade. These certain people will let your black ass on the porch—but you ain’t never gettin’ through the kitchen door, boy! You got me. Any time I point out who owned the slave ships that sailed from Europe and Africa, delete that chapter from the audio recording. That shit will get us erased.”
“Now, as for those few times when I quote persons of heavenly hue, such as your self, or of devilish pallor such as myself, using the N-word, I would very much appreciate you recording that word in your voice!”
[laughter]
“You know, James, I was thinking of recording you saying it, and then inserting it! Speaking of which, I have not listed myself as the reader. Some people might think this is your reading voice.”
[laughter]
“Bro, you know how much love I could get off your voice—a white dude that sounds like Morgan Freedman? That’s a dating machine! I could sound like you but the girl doesn’t have to worry about getting beat up at Thanksgiving dinner by your savage cousin from Jamaica?”
[laughter]
Oliver and I spent another hour discussing how to avoid censorship and the fate of the only NBA player with a moral compass, who he described as “an Irishman who spent to much time in the sun,” by discussing how his racial sainthood could be used to shield us from my ancestral evil as the world of lies we live in spins its webs of soul control.
Notes
-1. The scout, usually a fatherless, Caucasian drug user, is often employed by black invaders taking over a neighborhood to set up targets. This happened to me in 2019 in Baltimore County.
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